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BOYHOOD 


BY 


WARREN    HOLDEN 


r*%>  o»  ran*      ^ 

'ijititsiisitt; 


PHILADELPHIA 

PRESS  OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
1897 


Copyright,  1897, 

BY 

Warren  Holden. 

667/3 


7 


TO   THE 

PUPILS  OF  THE  FOURTH  FORM 

IN  GIRARD  COLLEGE 

THE    FOLLOWING    VERSES    ARE    AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 

BY    THEIR    FRIEND 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


The    aim   of  this    little    book   is    to    signalize 

every    boyish    act    which    is    both     natural     and 

innocent. 

W.  H. 


OfclTIB 

BOYHOOD. 

Fit  prompter  thou  of  boyhood's  mimic  stage, 
Fledgling  of  Poesy,  turn  o'er  the  page; 
Rehearse  the  various  characters  he  played, 
In  full  costume  (though  mostly  feigned)  arrayed. 
Mechanic,  merchant,   farmer,  shepherd,  king, 
Backwoodsman,  hunter,  bandit,  everything ; 
Wild  Indian,  soldier,  sailor,  foe,  and  friend, 
Knight-errant,  pilgrim,  hermit,  without  end. 
He  lives  through  every  phase  of  history, 
From  savage  up  to  civilized  degree. 
In  his  development  exemplifies 
The  whole  creation  microcosm-wise. 

First  he  plays  animal,  lion  or  bear, 
Companions  simpler  than  himself  to  scare. 
And  next  he  personates  the  noble  horse, 
Surpassing  the  fleet  Arab  in  his  course. 

An  architect  he  builds  a  patchwork  house, 
Though  cramped  for  quarters,  snug  as  any  mouse. 
7 


And  if  near  by  he  chance  to  find  a  cave, 
As  primitive  cave-dweller  he'll  behave. 

A  sanguinary  warrior  in  the  bud, 

Though  he  may  sicken  at  the  sight  of  blood, 

He  thinks  he'd  be  as  prompt  to  wade  through  gore 

As  through  the  mud  before  the  school-house  door. 

In  Don-Quixotic  arms  from  cap  to  boot, 

He  leads  his  comrades  on  to  capture  loot. 

In  spite  of  ignominious  retreat, 

Never  acknowledges  entire  defeat. 

Some  qualifying  circumstance  appears, 

To  shield  his  pride  and  ward  the  victors'  jeers. 

A  'prentice  shipwright,  he  constructs  a  raft. 
Then,   turning  captain,  mans  his  crazy  craft. 
A  daring  Crusoe,  tempts  the  distant  shores 
Of  mill-pond, '  and  their  mysteries  explores. 

He  roams  the  wood,  a  hardy  pioneer ; 
Encounters  dire  privations  and  small  cheer 


Till  supper-time,  when  he  adjourns  the  play, 

To  be  continued  the  next  holiday. 

Then  wandering  beyond  the  beaten  track, 

No  house  in  sight,   not  sure  of  the  way  back, 

Beginning  to  feel  lost,  he  thinks  he  hears 

An  Indian  warhoop :   bravely  curbs  his  fears, 

Secretly  hoping  'twas  the  distant  scream 

Of  locomotive  whistle  :  would  not  seem 

A  coward,   though  his  hair  stand  up  on  end, 

And  his  flesh  creep.     When  lo !  a  well-known  friend 

Appears  in  sight,  and  quickly  "Who's  afraid?" 

The  little  hero  shifts  his  masquerade. 

Fellows,  come  on,  pretend  there  is  a  ghost, 
And  scare  the  girls  out  of  their  wits  a' most. 
Anticipating  the  clandestine  joke, 
The  girls  prepare  a  cunning  counter-stroke. 
The  ghost  turns  out  a  treacherous  boomerang; 
And  guilty  shame  o'erwhelms  the  conscious  gang. 

Of  petty  mischief  or  fantastic  freak 
The  authorship  is  never  far  to  seek. 
9 


We  simply  say,  nor  care  to  find  more  out, 
That  everlasting  boy  has  been  about. 

An  angler  raw,  the  minnows  of  the  brook 
Enjoyed  the  feast  provided  by  his  hook. 
Trying  to  catch  a  wriggling,  struggling  eel, 
He  caught  a  ducking:   fate  which  made  him  feel 
Chagrin  and  discontent  but  ill  concealed — 
If  for  his  loss  or  gain  was  ne'er  revealed. 
But  better  luck  attends  his  future  sport, 
Witnessed  by  many  a  catch  of  every  sort. 

Ready  to  reap  where  he  has  never  sown, 
Of  course  he  claims  all  treasure-trove  his  own. 
All  things  spontaneous  are  boyhood's  right. 
Each  harvest  brings  a  different  delight. 
The  wild  flowers  strewn  by  fairy  hand  of  Spring 
O'er  mead  and  vale,  the  earliest  offering. 
Wild  fruits  and  berries,   too  unripe  to  eat, 
Though  sour  or  bitter,  all  to  him  are  sweet. 
10 


Apples  and  pears  present  a  tempting  prize, 
And  heaps  of  nuts  enlarge  his  greedy  eyes. 
Mean  rivalries  contend,  with  blatant  boast, 
Who  can  secure  and  who  devour  the  most. 
Gaunt  avarice  betrays  its  ugly  paw, 
Grabbing  and  stuffing  its  insatiate  maw. 
Hide  thy  distorted  face  from  boyhood's  sight, 
Or,  with  a  Gorgon's  gaze,  give  timely  fright. 
Beneath  the  spreading  shade  of  sycamore 
The  button-balls  their  ample  crop  outpour. 
Convenient  for  ambitious  little  folk 
Catalpa-beans  invite  the  manly  smoke. 
(The  deadly  cigarette  had  not  come  then 
From  the  arch  enemy  of  boys  and  men.) 
To  win  the  water-lily's  showy  flower, 
Without  wet  feet,  costs  many  a  patient  hour. 
The  oozy  marsh  along  the  river's  side, 
Where  calamus  and  cat's-tail  lift  their  pride, 
Would  seal  his  welcome  with  a  miry  pledge, 
Confirming  thus  his  freedom's  privilege. 
The  shells  and  pebbles  on  the  sandy  shore 


Add  their  rich  treasures  to  his  hoarded  store. 
On  sudden  pause,  as  one  just  wakened  hears, 
The  hollow  roar  of  Ocean  strikes  his  ears. 

Fire-plugs  and  hitching-posts  are  made  to  jump ; 
And  when  you  fall,   the  curbstone  for  a  bump. 
Tall  awning-posts  are  suitable  to  climb; 
Thence  to  look  down  with  patronage  sublime. 
Pavements  are  meant  for  hop-scotch,  boys  agree. 
Kind  hearts  turn  out  and  leave  his  boyship  free. 
And  those  smooth  pavements  patented  of  late 
Are  clearly  meant  for  patent  roller-skate. 
But  no  self  locomotion  can  keep  pace 
With  the  swift  cycle  rider's  maddening  chase. 
Converting  rights  to  his  own  proper  use, 
Ignoring  claims  which  question  the  abuse, 
The  independent  boy  owns  the  whole  world. 
"Do  as  I  please"  his  bold  defiance  hurled. 

The  neighboring  rocks  and  hills  precipitous, 
Which  oft  he  climbed  with  spirit  venturous, 

12 


Were   boyhood's   Alps.      While    thus   his   limbs  were 

trained, 
Perchance  a  loftier  impetus  was  gained. 


The  sports  successive,  each  in  season,  rule 
The  year;  save  interruptions  caused  by  school. 
Glad  boyhood's  calendar  appoints  the  days 
For  marbles,  tops,  and  many  other  plays. 
Some  games  come  any  time;  as  swift  foot-race, 
And  tag,  and  hide-and-seek,  and  prisoner's  base, 
Demanding  nimble  foot  and  eye  alert, 
And  breath  unbroken,  capture  to  avert. 
Base-ball  and  cricket  and  perhaps  croquet. 
Refined  lawn-tennis  waits  a  later  day. 
In  good  old  days  good  pitchers  pitched  good  balls, 
But  now  live  catapults  hurl  cannon-balls. 
With  due  restraint  foot-ball  may  hold  its  place, 
But  to  curb  roughness  calls  for  manliest  grace. 
Wiry  and  lithe  like  limber  acrobat, 
With  wrestling,  vaulting,  leap-frog,  and  all  that, 
13 


He  copies  the  professional  athlete, 
Aiming  to  be  a  circus-boy  complete. 
Manoeuvres  that  his  kite  may  highest  soar. 
When  the  string  breaks,   its  wings  can  fly  no  more. 
On  rare  occasions  fancies  fisticuffs, 
But  better  instincts  leave  that  game  to  roughs. 
Boating  and  swimming  youngsters  only  find 
A  pleasure,  but  accept  the  health  combined. 
And  last  the  ice  and  snow  bring  bracing  sports. 
Roll  the  big  balls  and  build  the  hostile  forts. 
Snow-balling,  skating,  coasting  with  the  sled 
(Tobogganning  they  call  it  now,   'tis  said  ; 
Spoiling  the  game  with  their  outlandish  name. 
"Sliding  down  hill,"  boys  call  it  still  the  same). 
Thus  through  the  year  pursues  the  winding  track, 
Prescribed  by  fate  in  boyhood's  almanac. 
As  boys  by  nature  are  opposed  to  schools, 
And  men  on  principle  averse  to  fools, 
A  doubtful  conflict  threatens  to  arise, 
Requiring  tact  to  fix  a  compromise. 
Drastic  persuasion,  variously  applied 
14 


As  symptoms  indicate,  is  sometimes  tried. 
Judicious  coaxing,  backed  by  seasoned  birch, 
Awakens  zeal  for  diligent  research ; 
Which,  step  by  step,  in  time  removes  each  doubt, 
Till  learning's  crooked  paths  are  straightened  out ; 
When  they  become  the  ways  of  pleasantness, 
And  school-boy  wins  the  guerdon  of  success. 

Of  friendship's  guild  frank  boyhood  is  freeborn. 
Nor  fails  the  boy  his  birthright  to  adorn. 
He  keeps  back  nothing.     All  is  common  stock. 
His  trinket-box  is  guiltless  of  a  lock. 
Haply  by  pirate  fingers  quite  bereft, 
His  quondam  friend  hath  borrowed.      'Tis  not  theft. 
His  heart  is  all  too  big  to  let  him  mourn. 
Only  for  wounded  love  is  he  forlorn. 
The  good  man  loves  his  neighbor  as  himself. 
Enough  for  him  beset  by  care  and  pelf. 
The  boy,  dear  unsophisticated  elf, 
Upborne  between  his  twin  angelic  guides — 
Companions  never  absent  from  his  sides, 
i5 


Who  "always  do  behold  the  Father's  face," 
And  draw  their  inspiration  from  His  grace — 
The  guileless  boy,  like  them,  prefers  his  friend, 
With  lavish  hand  his  little  store  doth  spend 
For  his  delight :   nor  calleth  aught  his  own 
Save  that  dear  friend,  zealous  for  him  alone. 


'UIIVIRS 

There  was  a  boy  on  far  Judea's  hills 

Who  kept  his  father's  sheep.     His  story  fills 

Full  many  a  page  of  sacred  history. 

The  first  page  solves  his  fortune's  mystery. 

Joy  waits  upon  his  steps  from  morn  till  eve ; 

And  peace  prepares  the  dreams  his  slumbers  weave. 

The  sun  arose  to  represent  the  throne 
Of  Deity  in  dazzling  splendor  shown. 
He  worshipped  there  with  soul  and  body  prone. 

In  milder  beauty  sank  the  evening  sun, 
Bedecked  with  robe  of  many  colors  spun. 
Again  he  bowed  and  made  his  orison. 

While  on  the  blazoned  shield  that  shelters  night, 
Whose  stars  betoken  truth  and  honor  bright, 
He  read  his  destiny  in  signs  of  light. 


17 


He  knew  no  fear,  because  he  knew  no  sin, 
Content  to  let  the  Master  rule  within. 

To  meet  a  bear  and  lion  in  the  way, 

And  with  his  hands  alone  the  beast  to  slay, 

For  such  a  boy  was  merely  rugged  play. 

To  hurl  a  boastful  giant  headlong  down, 
And  burst  the  bubble  of  his  false  renown, 
Enough  a  shepherd's  sling  and  polished  stone, 
By  hand  of  innocence  and  trust  if  thrown. 

No  false  pretence  his  honor  could  betray, 
For  he  had  learned  to  love  and  to  obey. 
Obedience  was  his  proper  name ;  and  love, — 
Love  and  obedience,  names  revered  above. 


is 


Thou  happy  shepherd  boy  !     Oh,  hapless  day, 
When  needful  service  called  the  boy  away 
And  made  of  him  a  conqueror  and  king  : 
As  if  that  office  were  the  one  grand  thing. 

Thrice  happier  the  simple  shepherd  boy 
Than  all  the  kings  in  one ;  with  all  their  joy 
Of  gold  and  gauds  and  ceremonial  rites, 
And  lawless  power  and  sensuous  delights, 
That  ever  gratified  the  shallow  heart 
Of  grown-up  children.     Must  we  ever  part, 
My  David?     Oh,  come  back,  boy  of  the  soul, 
And  be  the  model  of  young  self-control. 


19 


Know  ye  that  wondrous  boy  of  Holy  Writ, 
How  'mid  the  doctors  he  did  meekly  sit, 
Hearing  their  grave  discourse  with  eager  ears, 
And  asking  questions  far  beyond  his  years? 
About  his  Father's  business  much  concerned 
Ere  other  boys  the  alphabet  have  learned 
Of  useful  service.     Happy  Nazareth  boys, 
His  playmates,  sharing  more  than  common  joys. 
Wistful  and  curious  ye  would  search  his  face, 
When  some  pro  founder  feeling  left  its  trace. 
Honoring  as  father  one  of  David's  line, 
Yet  hearing  whispers  of  a  Sire  Divine, — 
Whispers  prophetic  of  his  dire  crusade 
Against  the  powers  of  darkness, — undismayed 
He  reached  the  stature  of  his  heritage, 
Ripe  to  begin  his  painful  pilgrimage. 
The  Holy  Spirit  must  unloose  the  tongue 
That  would  dilate  the  story,  which  hath  rung 
Through  heaven's  high  courts  the  countless  choirs  among, 
A  song  of  wonder  more  than  half  unsung. 

20 


O  boyhood,  golden  age  of  mortal  life, 
Unmarred  by  manhood's  fratricidal  strife, 
Ere  disappointment's  blight  and  cankering  care 
Have  withered  hope  and  left  its  branches  bare, 
Thou  fond  regret,  art  thou  forever  past? 
And  must  the  sad  bereavement  ever  last? 
Forbid  it,  Faith.     The  bright  millennial  morn 
Shall  clear  the  mist  of  selfhood's  nightmare  born, 
The  boundless  hopes  and  loves  of  youth  restore, 
And  I  shall  be  a  boy  forevermore. 


Ktjr  Of  THM        ^ 

uhivbrsitt; 


21 


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